


watch the sky go from black to gray

by pirateygoodness



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, F/F, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 07:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19389346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: She lives. That's the most important part.Alex tried to kill her. Hebetrayedher, hurt her in a way that nobody has ever hurt her before. Alex taught her many things, but the last lesson - about who she can and cannot trust - is the hardest one by far.Kara was right.





	watch the sky go from black to gray

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Quiet Light" by The National.

She lives. That's the most important part. 

Alex tried to kill her. He _betrayed_ her, hurt her in a way that nobody has ever hurt her before. Alex taught her many things, but the last lesson - about who she can and cannot trust - is the hardest one by far. 

Kara was right. 

It hurts to admit it. Just the thought feels like there's something stuck in her throat, and she'll only say it out loud the one time. Kara was right about a lot of things. She was right about Alex - _Lex_ , that's what he called himself here - and about Kaznia and about his plans. 

She was also right about kryptonite. It burns, the blast from Lex's gloves. It runs along her skin like fire and feels like it melts beneath it, the pain sinking into her bones until she feels like she might fall apart from the inside out. Like an orange, split into segments. The kryptonite hurts for minutes that stretch to hours, until it feels like the pain might never end. 

It takes a whole afternoon underneath a special light that Kara's Alex calls a "yellow sun lamp" before she feels better. 

The DEO is uncomfortable. It feels like her home back in Kaznia, the one she realizes now was more like a kind of prison. She doesn't want to stay there. "Hey," Kara says. "It'll be safer here. Please, stay." 

Kara is right about a lot of things, but that doesn't mean that she's right about everything. 

Kara's hand is on her shoulder. She pushes it away with a hand on Kara's wrist and notices that Kara doesn't resist her. "I don't want to be a prisoner. I have my own place to live." 

Kara makes a face. It gets under her skin, working its way down the same way that the kryptonite did just hours ago. Kara looks sad for her, heartbroken in a way that makes her feel - what's the English word - _pitiable._

She won't allow it. 

+

She goes for a walk. 

She doesn't need to. She could fly just as easily, but there's something grounding about the way her feet hit the pavement, the sunlight on her face. It's so bright here, in National City. Everyone is soft to it; accustomed to bright days so often that they have the nerve to complain when it's cloudy. 

She knows that cloudy days are the reason that they can appreciate the sunlight at all. 

She walks through a park. It's in the modern American style: forest and nature ruined with concrete walls and little benches everywhere. In a corner, near one of the gates, she sees a group of men playing chess. 

"Excuse me," she says. "I know that game." 

The men smile at her. They are old, much older than Alex - _Lex_ \- and older than most of the soldiers she met in Kaznia. They seem like they could be grandfathers. Their eyes are kind, and they call her _young lady_ with affection in their voices. 

All of them turn out to be very stupid. None of them believe that a woman like her could understand how to play. 

She wins one hundred American dollars off of their poor judgement before she plays with a man named Sergei. His English comes out in an accent just like hers; she switches to Russian and he laughs at her in delight. He misses his opening play, puts his bishop in an unwise spot and leaves himself open to a simple defensive counter. 

Sergei's eyes are kind, just like the others. He isn't much more intelligent. But there's something comforting about the way he speaks, the fact that he can laugh with her in a language that feels more like home. For some reason, she finds herself mis-placing her pawn, ignoring the opening. 

She loses. He pockets her five dollar bill and laughs and asks her if she'll play again next week. 

She finds herself agreeing. 

+

She goes to the grocery store with her winnings. She doesn't think she'll ever learn to be insensitive to the abundance of it, the American-style store, with more of everything than people could possibly eat. 

Alex's lamps have made her hungry, and she fills her basket with fifty dollars of food. It's more than she's ever really had to herself before. A part of her feels guilty - it's greedy, and it feels like taking more than her fair share - but then her stomach growls and a wave of hunger passes through her, changing her mind. 

She eats two pizzas, the kind that start frozen and warm in the oven. While she waits for them to cook, she sits on the floor of her apartment kitchen and eat an entire box of berries straight from the container, red and sweet and sticky on her hands. 

It's more decadent than she could possibly put into words - the food itself but also the fact that she gets to decide to eat it. She chose this meal, and she's eating it her way. The nourishment from it makes her feel strong the way that the sunlight does. 

+

She gives herself a name. 

Linda Lee is the name on the lease to her apartment, the name on her bank card and the photo identification card Alex - _Lex_ \- gave to her. Every time she uses it now, it itches. It's a name that he chose and she used to feel proud of it but now she just feels hurt. Betrayal and anger and sadness have mixed together and they boil in the pit of her stomach when she thinks of him, until she feels like she might be sick. 

If Lex can give her a name and make it real, there's no reason why she can't give herself a different name. A better one.

She spends a weekend reading. She pores through her little library, goes through all of her books for inspiration. She writes down the names she remembers from Kaznia, everyone she's ever met there: _Nadia_. _Sasha_. _Zoya_. _Tatianna_. _Mischa_. None of them feel quite right. 

She almost forgets about the book on her nightstand, the one she's read at least a half-dozen times more than all the others. It's her secret favourite, the one that she always remembers as lush and fantastical despite Lex's best efforts. She thumbs through it, smiles as she remembers all of her favourite parts. She settles on a page, runs her finger across the name of her favourite character: _Daisy._

That will do. She could be Daisy. 

+

Kara visits her. 

This isn't entirely accurate. Kara arrives uninvited, knocking on the door to her apartment to announce herself. Daisy's inside, but she doesn't want to answer. 

"Come on," Kara says from the hallway. "I can -" she pauses, lowers her voice from a shout to a whisper. "I can see you in there." 

Oh. Daisy squints, lets the world shift so that she can see past the wall to Kara on the other side. Her expression is a mirror. Of course they both have that power; Daisy had almost forgotten. She rolls her eyes on purpose, makes a point of crossing her arms in front of herself before she answers the door so that Kara can see. "What do you want?" she says, as she opens the door. 

Kara Danvers is the softest person Daisy's ever met. Daisy doesn't know how to react to her, properly. When Lex was there, he made the world sound so simple. There were good people and there were villains and it was clear what needed to be done to make things right. She and Lex were strong, while Kara Zor-El was monstrously soft and weak. Now, everything feels messy. Now there's capitalist villain Supergirl standing in front of her in a fluffy pink sweater and jeans, adjusting her glasses. "I just, um. Can I come in?" Kara asks. 

Daisy doesn't reply with her words. She moves to the side, so that her body is no longer blocking the entryway. 

Kara takes several seconds before she accepts her invitation. 

Daisy watches her look around the apartment; appraising. Kara seems to focus on all the little details, noticing the ways in which they are similar. Daisy's apartment has changed since Kara was last here. She's bought a chess set of her own. It sits at the dining table with one of Lex's books and she practices every day. Kara takes one of the pawns, fidgets with it and rolls it between her fingertips before setting it back in its place. "What did you want from me?" Daisy asks again. 

Kara wanders around the room, turning in a circle, noticing. Kara wanted to check on Daisy, that much is clear. In her own soft, clumsy way, this is reconnaissance. "To see how you were," Kara answers. "You had a rough time after everything with Lex. I thought you might want a friend." 

"We're not friends." 

Kara fidgets again, looks down at the floor and then her hands and then back up at Daisy. Her eyes are big and wide, so soft that she almost looks childlike. Daisy doesn't know how she can stand it, being this vulnerable all the time. She can't understand how someone this open could have bested her. "But we could be," Kara says. "If you wanted to be." 

"We're enemies," Daisy points out. 

"Enemies don't typically risk their lives for each other." 

Kara's got her there and she knows it; her mouth is twisted into a sweet little half-grin. The guilelessness of her, the way that she shows every emotion, is - it's infuriating. 

"We're still not friends," Daisy says. 

The books that she owns are no longer hidden; she's displayed them in a place of prominence on a shelf and she's added to them. Now, Tolkien and Jane Austen are mixed in with the books Lex brought her as essential reading. The girl at the bookstore told her that she'd like a series called _Harry Potter_ , the third novel in the series is half-finished on her nightstand. Kara picks it up, laughs a little to herself. "Oh, I love these ones," she says. "My sister and I we used to, um. Try to figure out what house we'd be in at Hogwarts." 

Daisy feels a little surge of recognition. She's done the same thing, daydreamed about where she would be if she could go to a magical school. It's always felt too soft, too secret to ever share. She doesn't like that part of herself, the one that finds comfort in the idea that Kara might have a similar kind of softness. 

It doesn't seem to matter to her heart whether she likes it or not. 

A joke comes into Daisy's head and she feels her mouth twitch into a smile despite her best efforts. "I bet you'd be Hufflepuff," she mumbles. 

Kara stops cold. "Except I'm _clearly_ a Gryffindor," she replies. She's smiling too, despite the offended tone of voice, like she's teasing. 

"You would say that," Daisy replies. 

Kara doesn't reply. Her smile gets a little softer around the edges, and there's a distance to her gaze that's familiar. She's thinking. "Come to game night," Kara says. 

"Game night?"

"Yeah, it's like - a thing we do. All my friends and my sister and everyone we get together and play board games and hang out." 

"Will there be chess?" she asks. 

Kara frowns at the chess set. "Not usually. But we could teach you our games! I think you'd love it."

Daisy thinks about it. Thinks about the idea of learning games, being in a room with new people who only know her as Kara Danvers' shadow. She thinks about the looks they would give her, the way people looked at her when she was Supergirl attacking the White House. She crosses her arms. "What would your friends think of me?"

Kara falters. Daisy doesn't miss it. "They'll love you," Kara says. "I know it." 

Daisy tries not to roll her eyes. This world. This world and this version of herself who thinks everything can be sunshine and rainbows. Who thinks that somehow Daisy can be working to crush the American government one day, and the next learn colourful board games over cheese and wine with Kara Danvers. 

"Maybe next time," she says. 

Kara's shoulders drop. Daisy can see disappointment in her expression, poorly concealed. She doesn't know how to feel about that. "Yeah, um. Okay. Next time," Kara says. "Hey - what should I call you?" 

"What do you mean?"

"Your name. I know Lex called you Red Daughter, but -"

"That's not my name," Daisy interrupts. She's surprised at how forcefully she speaks. "You can call me Daisy." 

"Daisy," Kara says. She turns the word over, clearly reflecting. Kara's eyes say that she doesn't think it's the right name for someone like her, and the feeling of it itches. 

"I chose it," she says. "From my favourite book." 

She doesn't owe Kara any information. But something about the fact of her sharing it makes Kara's expression grow light and kind. "I like it," she finally says. "Daisy." 

+

Daisy goes back to the park the next day. She plays chess with Sergei, and this time she wins ten dollars from him. She spends five of it on coffee and donuts for them both. 

Sergei shows her the best donut cart in the park, the one that sells the heavy ones that have the texture of little cakes. She eats three to his one, while they talk. 

He tells her about his life. He talks about growing up in Kaznia, and later Russia, before moving to America. He talks about being young man in America on his own, feeling a little bit lost. "It's so different," Daisy sighs in Russian, the familiar language rolling off of her tongue. 

He shrugs, and puts his hand over hers. "Different can be good," he says. "You just have to be patient." 

Daisy is surprised to find herself feeling comforted. 

+

Slowly, Daisy settles into a life of her own. 

Lex left a bank account under Linda Lee's name; it's still full of money that he must have forgotten about. She has more than enough to pay her rent for a few months, with food on top of that. 

She learns that the grocery store has the freshest vegetables on Monday mornings. She buys a book from the shop down the street, one that teaches her how to make her favourite foods, and she learns to cook for herself. 

She helps Sergei at his house; weeds the garden and mows the lawn and makes sure that he doesn't forget about his doctor's appointments. 

Daisy doesn't know yet, if it's the right life for her. But it's a life where she chooses everything for herself, and that feels like enough for now. 

+

Kara invites her for coffee, weeks later. It's a real invitation this time. 

Daisy doesn't own a pocket telephone. She doesn't trust the built-in cameras, the speakers that are so easy to use to listen in on people. She doesn't own a regular telephone, either - it's not like she has anyone she would call. 

She comes home one day to an envelope on the floor of her apartment, clearly slipped under her door while she was away. She eyes it suspiciously, but she opens it. Inside is a little notecard, pink with flowers printed on the front. Next to the flowers are tiny block capitals that read: _HELLO FRIEND._

There's only one person in National City that would give her a card like that. Daisy rolls her eyes, and opens to card to find Kara's swooping handwriting inside. 

_Daisy,_

_I hope you're having a great day! I'd like to treat you to a cup of coffee so that we can get to know each other._ Here, she's doodled a little smiling face, a comma and a dot for eyes and a curved line for a grin. _Are you free tomorrow? Send this card back to me or give me a call._

Kara signs it with a little drawing of a heart, followed by her name. Something low in Daisy's stomach feels tight. _We're not friends_ she'd said before, and that had been true.

Daisy's never thought about whether or not she wants to be Kara's friend. Still, she finds herself closing her eyes and reaching for a pen. She scribbles a response: _Yes. Tomorrow at 2:00._

She walks with the card, the five blocks from her apartment to Kara's. She knows the route by heart. She's done it dozens of times before, in a wig and a cardigan that both itched. She's been inside Kara's home, knows the layout as well as she knows her own apartment. 

Daisy's never been here as herself, before. One of the neighbours notices her, greets her as Kara with a smile and a wave. Daisy nods in reply, as politely as she can manage. 

Kara's apartment door is closed. Daisy stands in the hallway, squints. The shape of the wall shifts until Daisy can see past it. Kara's inside, hunched over her computer. 

Daisy doesn't knock. 

She approaches the door, slides the card underneath it as confidently as she can. Then she leaves. She hears Kara open the door; hears Kara call her name softly as Daisy reaches the stairs at the end of the hall that take her down to the street. 

She pretends not to hear. 

+

Kara invites Daisy for coffee and Daisy accepts and they plan to meet at 2PM. Kara's going to come to Daisy's apartment to pick her up.   
At 1:30 PM, Daisy is nervous. 

She's in her apartment, alone, and it suddenly occurs to her that she doesn't know what to wear. It's a very strange feeling. She has more than enough clothing to keep herself warm; her usual jeans with a shirt or a sweater should be fine. But there's something about meeting Kara that's giving Daisy this sense of - something. 

It feels very important to Daisy that she looks her best, that's all. 

She changes her clothes three times between 1:30 and 1:50, before settling on the outfit that she was wearing to begin with: her favourite red sweater, the soft one that falls down to her hips, and jeans. 

She combs her hair and pulls it back, plaiting it - no, _braiding_ , that's the American way to say it - into a column down the back of her head. 

Kara Danvers knocks on her apartment door at exactly 2:01. 

Daisy opens the door and sees that she looks nervous, too. Kara's wearing work clothes, trousers with a soft, flowing shirt that has a high collar and long sleeves. The fabric of the shirt is a bright, sunshine yellow. If this were a book, it would be symbolic. 

"Hey," Kara says. She steps forward, arms wide as if to pull Daisy into an embrace. Daisy doesn't mean to flinch quite so visibly at the idea of it, but clearly she stiffens enough that Kara balks and decides against the hug at the last minute. She tries to recover, swinging her arms back to her sides and rocking on her toes before she asks, "You ready?" 

"Yes," Daisy says. She wants to fidget. She actually catches herself at it; her free hand worrying at the hem of her sweater, and she shoves it into her back pocket to keep herself under control. "Let's go." 

Kara takes her to a coffee shop, a big one. There are wide, soft chairs inside and people working at computers, the kind of shop Lex would have called _mid-1990s American-style European_ in his most disdainful tone of voice. Kara asks her what she wants, and Daisy is momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer number of drinks on the menu. "It's okay," Kara says. "I'll get you my favourite." 

Kara orders Daisy something that costs five whole dollars, just for one drink. She gets another for herself, pays with a twenty dollar bill and leaves some extra coins for the girl working at the counter. Daisy tries not to react visibly to the excess of it all. 

Daisy's five dollar coffee comes in a cup so tall that it's a bit of a surprise, with cream and cinnamon on top. "What is this?" she asks. 

Kara smiles at her. She looks pleased, and the part of Daisy that still sees Kara as the enemy starts to bristle. Kara isn't any better than she is, and her fancy drinks don't signify importance. "Try it," Kara says. Her voice is gentle and genuinely kind and despite herself Daisy can't quite stay angry. "It's yummy." 

Daisy takes a sip. The cream on top is fluffy and sweet and it gets in the way at first; she can't drink the coffee without getting cream on her nose. She frowns, tries again the way she sees Kara doing it and drags her tongue across the peak of the little whipped-cream mountain first. It's delicious. The cinnamon on top is spicy and the cream is sweet and she lets herself enjoy the way it melts in her mouth. Her next sip is more successful. She manages a mouthful of cream and a taste of the coffee underneath, and the cream is fluffy against the roof of her mouth as the coffee melts it. The drink itself is warm and milky and sweet, blended with some kind of syrup that masks the bitterness almost completely. 

When she opens her eyes, she sees Kara watching her. She's resting her chin on her hands, smiling at the way Daisy's been reacting. Daisy feels her cheeks go warm in response. She doesn't know how she feels about being seen enjoying herself. 

"Do you like it?" Kara asks. 

"It's sweet," Daisy says. "I like sweet." 

Kara grins, makes a soft noise of delight in the back of her throat. "I knew you would." 

There's something here, something palpable between them that makes Daisy's stomach wobble and her cheeks get warmer. She hides her face in her drink and takes another sip. 

"So, what's your last name?" Kara asks. They've been talking for at least a half hour - mostly Kara, with Daisy answering. She can't seem to fight it. Kara's warm sunshine nature is infectious, and Daisy can't help but be swept away by it. 

Daisy looks down at her coffee. She didn't choose one. It didn't feel necessary at the time, but now that Kara's eyes are on her she's embarrassed about it. "I don't have one yet." 

Kara puts her hand over Daisy's hand, on top of the table. Her palms are so soft. Daisy's first thought is judgement: clearly Kara's never done any hard work in her life. Then she remembers that her own palms are just as soft; that she's invulnerable the same way that Kara is. 

"You should have one. A Kryptonian name." 

Daisy thinks about it. _Krypton._ The place among the stars that she's knows is her home, somehow - Lex had said, it's how she has her powers. She doesn't feel like she's from there at all. 

(But then again, she doesn't feel like she's from much of anywhere. Kaznia is barely more home than America, and before then her memory is a blank.) 

"I wouldn't know where to begin," is what she says. 

Kara frowns. She taps the back of Daisy's hand absently, clearly thinking. "Well, your house is El, we know that much. You could be Zor-El? We could be sisters." 

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Definitely not." 

Something about the way that she reacts is emphatic enough that Kara chuckles. "What about - oh! Cir-El. I always thought that was pretty." 

Daisy turns the name over, mentally. "Daisy Cir-El," she says out loud. 

Kara's thumb moves in a half-circle, swooping out to trace the back of Daisy's hand. "What do you think?" Kara asks, expectant. 

Something low in Daisy's stomach twists again. "I like it," she finally admits. She takes her hand back and buries her nose in a long drink of her coffee, before Kara can ask any follow-up questions. 

+

She picks an Earth birthday. 

Kara explains it to her, over another round of fancy sweet cinnamon coffee. She gets a day, and they celebrate with cake and a song. 

Daisy doesn't remember ever being born, or being a child small enough for birthdays. But she does remember the day she fell to earth, the feeling of waking up. They sit with the calendar on Kara's fancy phone, flicking through weeks with their fingertips until they settle on a time that's as close as she can remember: June 18th. 

+

Daisy saves someone, as Supergirl. 

She doesn't mean to. 

She still likes to draw. She doesn't draw Kara or Kara's Alex or chess moves much, anymore. Instead, she sketches the city. Sergei showed her an art supply store near the park, and she bought herself a little paint set. It fits in her pocket, just big enough for six colours and a little collapsible brush, but it's more than enough for what she needs. She likes to sit on the roof of her apartment building and paint the city. 

Nighttime is best. The city is quieter, then. She doesn't mind being seen, but she knows that a girl balancing on the edge of a rooftop in the middle of the day can attract unwanted attention. At night, she doesn't need to worry. The city turns into something magical, something she can almost learn to love. The electric lights of advertisements and apartment windows and office towers glitter beneath her, turning into a mass of flickering that almost reminds her of the stars. Every bright window is a person, or a family; someone doing their best. 

It's still so strange, reconciling the National City Lex told her about with the National City that Kara has so much love for. One is a den of sin, filled with murderers and liars. The other is a place where people help each other, hopeful and bright. 

The truth, she's starting to suspect, is somewhere in the middle. 

Sometimes, she sees Supergirl. She hears the familiar cry for help, or sees the flicker of fire in the distance, and a red-and-blue blur emerges from the window a few buildings away. She painted her, once. The city in the background, dark and moody, and the smallest streak of red flying above. But whenever Daisy hears danger, Supergirl comes. 

(She sees it, now. The way that Kara chooses to focus her abilities. Working for power she could do so much, but Daisy knows intimately how easy it would be for someone to point her in the wrong direction, to - _misuse_ her. Kara chooses to save the people she knows are in trouble. It's small thinking, but her power stays in her own hands. Daisy is starting to understand why that matters.) 

Daisy's drawing, her knees tucked underneath her as she balances on the corner of the rooftop. There's a beautiful view here, where buildings give way to what, in the daylight, is her favourite park. At night it's an abyss, an unlit scar in a sea of light, and Daisy has been meaning to paint it for weeks. 

She hears it, the familiar sound of a voice crying out. _Help_ , they say. _Anyone. Supergirl!_

She looks up, waiting for the red and blue blur, but it doesn't come. 

Daisy frowns, and listens a little harder. The voice cries out again; a woman's voice. Something in her heart twists, and she sets her paints aside. She's about to fly away, bare-faced in her leggings and softest sweater, but then she remembers. The talks she and Kara have had, about Kara Danvers and Kara Zor-El and the care that Kara puts into keeping her identity a secret. 

(They don't talk about the suits that Daisy keeps under her bed. The one with the red skirt and Kara's symbol, and the one that Lex gave her. She wonders, sometimes, if Kara knows she has them.) 

She runs down the stairs to her apartment at lightning speed, the air rushing and collapsing behind her. Then she's emerging, the red and blue blur, flying toward the sounds of struggle. 

Daisy finds the trouble, easily. There's a car that's overturned, the undercarriage beginning to catch fire. Underneath it is a girl. She's trapped, and the rescue team is there but can't get near. It's almost too easy. She walks into the fire and smiles to herself as it flickers against her skin harmlessly. The car is feather-light in her hands and she scoops up the girl, holds her close and whispers, "You're safe." 

Daisy brings her to the waiting ambulance. Supergirl, the real one, doesn't arrive. 

There's a hand on her shoulder and she whirls, ready to fight. The hand belongs to a man wearing a uniform from the National City Fire Department. He's smiling at her like they're friends. "Nice one, Supergirl," he tells her. 

It takes her a moment to realize that she needs to pretend. "Of course," she says, remembering at the last second that she needs to have an American accent. Her first words wobble, come out sounding like a bit of both. "All in a night's work." 

There's a copy of Catco News Magazine under her door a few days later. Near the middle is a little piece of paper, one of those note pages with the glue on one side. Daisy opens it to the marked page and there's an article circled there. It's familiar: a photo of herself in Kara's suit with the woman in her arms, fire crackling around them. Daisy hadn't realized that anyone was taking pictures. 

The note has one sentence, in Kara's loopy handwriting: _Was this you?_

+

For her Earth birthday, she teaches Kara how to play chess. 

Kara asks her ahead of time, what she'd like to do. June 18 is coming up, she says, and they should celebrate. She offers American-style celebrations: oversized cakes, parties with friends, flashy things. Daisy doesn't need any of that. She wants three things: a large pepperoni pizza, chocolate cookies, and a willing chess partner. 

The smile that Kara gives her when she talks about her birthday plans is - she doesn't know. It makes Daisy feel strange, and she has to look away. 

Kara knocks on Daisy's apartment door at the appointed time, almost exactly. She's holding two pizza boxes and carrying a bag with a box of cookies and a wrapped parcel inside. The wrapped parcel makes something wobble in the pit of her stomach, someplace between nervous and excited. It makes her think of the times when Lex would bring her new books, wrapped in paper - the way she'd feel happy in anticipation. 

But Kara doesn't offer the parcel to her, just the food. 

That's alright. Daisy has more than enough things for herself, anyway. 

Kara does give her a soft smile, though. When Daisy's hands are full with the pizza, Kara darts forward to wrap her arm around Daisy's back, pulling her into an embrace that's warm and friendly and stuns Daisy to a standstill. "Happy birthday," she says against Daisy's shoulder, her tone affectionate and caring. 

It makes Daisy feel warm from head to toe. It's like stepping into a warm shower, the heat beginning at the crown of her head and dripping down the rest of her, until she's blushing and her mouth is dry from the intensity of it. She doesn't know how to react to this. "Thank you," she says. She's still holding the box, the food inside heating her hands through the cardboard. She wriggles her way out of Kara's arms with what she hopes is grace, and busies herself arranging plates for their dinner. 

Once she's free, it's better. The air feels cooler, and her head is less clouded with confusing emotions. Her throat feels tight; she coughs to clear it. "Have you played chess before?" she asks. 

"A little," Kara says. There's something in her voice that Daisy doesn't want to analyze; a note of questioning or thoughtfulness. "Lena tried to teach me."

When Kara says the name _Lena_ her voice cracks; Daisy turns to look at Kara and her expression is suddenly, deeply sad. "Lena Luthor," Daisy clarifies. 

"Yeah."

Daisy frowns. "She is not your friend anymore?"

Kara blinks. Daisy has never seen her like this before. It almost seems like she might cry. "I, um. It's complicated," Kara says. "It doesn't matter." 

Daisy feels a surge of protective emotion. She wants to - she doesn't know. But she's angry with Lena, quite suddenly, for making her Kara feel sad. "How did she hurt you?" she finds herself asking.

There must be something in Daisy's expression that Kara doesn't like. She waves her hands as if to brush the discussion aside, and forces a smile. "No, no, it's nothing like that, really," she says. "I just, um. I wasn't a very good friend to her, so we're spending some time apart." 

"You're sad about this," Daisy says. 

Kara nods. 

Daisy's arm extends before her mind is aware of it; she pulls Kara by the wrist and forward, and now it's her turn to wrap Kara in an embrace. She hugs her as tightly as she can, and this time it doesn't feel strange or warm or overwhelming. Kara needs to be comforted, and maybe - maybe Daisy is her friend now, because comforting Kara feels easy and right in a way that it wouldn't have, before. "Don't be sad," she says against the top of Kara's head. Her hair smells like flowers and fruit; perfume from the shampoo she uses. 

"Yeah," Kara says. Her voice is a little watery, and her eyes are tear-bright when she lifts her head to look at Daisy. "Yeah, you're right. We have an Earth birthday to celebrate." 

"Of course I am," she says. "Now, show me this pizza." 

They play chess one-handed; each eating their own pizza slice by slice with the other. 

Kara was the one who explained to Daisy that the reason she feels hungry all the time is because her powers make her body use more energy. It's a beautiful luxury, to be able to feed her body until she's satisfied. Kara eats the way that Daisy does; humming with pleasure into her early bites. It's a relief, Kara tells her, to not have to hide her own body's hunger. 

Daisy feels the same. 

Kara is a quick study. _A little_ chess knowledge turns out to be a thorough understanding of the rules and some of the basic defenses. But as they begin to play, Kara starts to make silly mistakes. She leaves her pawns exposed, and misses obvious openings on more than one occasion. After a few moves, Daisy gets irritated. "Stop that," she says. 

"Stop what?" Kara asks. 

"Playing stupid," Daisy says. "If I win, I want it to be because I'm better. We're not children." 

Kara looks at her, surprised. As though - well, Daisy isn't sure. But it almost feels like it hadn't occurred to her that Daisy would notice. "You're right," she says, after a long moment of consideration. 

They empty the board, and start again. Daisy still wins, but by a much narrower margin. Playing with an opponent who can almost match her is a thrill, after so many months of nobody to play with but the old men in the park. 

After Daisy wins, Kara reaches for her bag. "I got you something," Kara says. 

"Why?"

"For your - like a birthday gift." Kara replies. 

Daisy looks away. Her rook is nearby on the table and she picks it up, rolls the piece between her fingers. Kara's been more than good to her; the pizza and the chess and the company alone have made today feel wonderful. It feels like too much, but in a beautiful way that expands inside her chest like a balloon. It's kind of Kara but overwhelming at the same time, and Daisy doesn't know how to express the way that she feels without sounding ungrateful. "You didn't have to," is what she finally says, mumbling the words down at her lap. 

"But I wanted to," Kara says, brightly. She presses her parcel into Daisy's hands; it's wrapped in bright paper that sheds little sparkles all across Daisy's palms and lap. It's tied with ribbon instead of twine. The ribbon is soft white fabric. Daisy rubs it between her fingers and thinks about wearing it in her hair, later. 

"Oh," Daisy says. "Thank you." 

"You can open it," Kara says. Daisy looks up. Kara's watching her. She looks delighted, eager to see how Daisy will react to whatever's inside. 

Daisy works at the ribbon first, easing it off of the paper and untying it to lay flat on the table. The paper is next. She can see the folds where the edges were taped down and she eases her fingertip underneath them, slowly pulling each flap up until the paper opens flat and falls away from the gift. 

Inside is a plain black book, and a little envelope about the size of a bank card. 

The envelope is on top, so she opens it first. There's a little plastic card inside, with the name of Daisy's favourite bookstore printed on it. "What is this for?" she asks, as politely as she can. 

"Oh, it's, um. A gift card. It's got money on it and you can use it for books. I know you like to read, but I didn't know what you'd like and I didn't want to guess, so -" 

"Oh," Daisy says. She's surprised at how soft her voice sounds, just like she's surprised at the depth of her reaction. The gift of choosing her own book - it's thoughtful in exactly the right way. "Thank you. It's, um. It's very kind." 

"Good," Kara says. Her voice is soft and her cheeks are pink; the depth of her own emotions is clear on her face. Daisy feels an answering surge of - _liking_ , that's the best way to explain it. She's suddenly full of the feeling of liking Kara. "Open the other one." 

The other item in the parcel is a blank book. There's nothing inside, but when Daisy runs the pages through her fingertips, she's surprised. "This paper is very nice," she says. 

"It's special paper," Kara says. "For painting. I saw your paint set one night, and I - I don't know. I thought it might be useful." 

That liking feeling grows even larger, the balloon in Daisy's chest so big that she feels as though she'll float away with it. Kara is fiddling with her own hands, fidgeting with her fingertips against her thumb. Daisy takes her hands to still them. "It's perfect," she says. "You didn't need to be so generous."

"I know," Kara says. "But it's your first Earth birthday. I wanted it to be special." 

"It was," Daisy whispers. She runs her thumb across the soft of Kara's hand, back and forth. "I'm grateful."

+

She takes her paint set up to the roof the next night. She brings her old sketchbook and the new one. There's a building she's been meaning to paint. 

Daisy sits on the roof, crosses her legs underneath her and begins to sketch. The sun is setting; her favourite time. The sun in National City is warm - too warm, sometimes, compared to what she's used to - and the moment of it giving way to cool and darkness is one of the most beautiful things, Daisy thinks. The only thing she likes better is sunrise. 

She sketches the tall tower in pencil first, gets the lines of it just right with the skyline in the background. Then she adds water to her paints, swirls her brush around in the lid like a palette. 

Putting her brush down onto Kara's fancy paper makes her a little bit nervous. Once she does, she sees that Kara was right about it. The paper soaks up the colour just right, doesn't bend or curl with the water like her notebook usually does. She adds her paint, colours the sketch in melancholy blues and greys. She leaves space for the bright glow of the city lights, and the sign at the top of the building: _CatCo Worldwide Media._

It's good work. She's happy with it; the marriage of her skill and the quality of her tools make her smile down at her page. 

The next day, she cuts the page out of her notebook, presses it carefully until it's flat. 

She slips the painting under the bottom of Kara's apartment door, with two words written on the back: _Thank you._

+

Kara invites her to game night again. This time, Daisy agrees to attend. 

She comes by Daisy's apartment again. Kara does this often, now. She'll stop by Daisy's apartment on the way home from work, just to say hello. Daisy's started to make a habit of being home at the time when Kara usually calls. 

Sometimes, Kara has something for her - a pastry from the bakery near the Catco building, a newspaper article she wants to discuss. Other times she has a problem, a crisis in either Kara Danvers' world or Supergirl's world that she wants Daisy to listen to. Some days, she comes in just to sit. Daisy likes those days best. 

"So," Kara says, one day. She's sitting at Daisy's kitchen table, her hands clasped around a cup of tea. Daisy's sitting next to her, their knees touching under the table. She can feel the way Kara inhales and tenses a little bit, the way she always does when she's bracing herself to say something difficult. "I'm having game night at my place tomorrow night." 

"Good for you," Daisy says. She knows how fond Kara is of game night. 

Kara ducks her head down, runs her thumb across the rim of her cup, nervously. "And I was, um. I was wondering if you would come."

"To game night," Daisy says. Her tone is flat; it's not really a question. "With your friends." 

"And me," Kara says. Kara lifts her gaze from the table to meet Daisy's eyes. Her expression is soft and open in every possible way. A month or two ago, Daisy would have hated the vulnerability of it. Now, it makes something inside her chest twist and then unlock, unleashing a rush of affection that Daisy hardly knows how to manage. 

"Your friends won't like me," Daisy says. 

One of Kara's hands leaves her mug and darts under the table, finding its way to Daisy's knee. Kara's palm is extra-warm, the heat from her cup still on her skin and finding its way onto Daisy's thigh. "They will," Kara says. She squeezes Daisy's leg with her hand. The tide of emotion in Daisy's heart rises even higher. "I know it." 

"Can we be a team?" Daisy asks. 

Kara's mouth spreads wide in a grin, delighted and eager. She makes a happy sound in the back of her throat and Daisy feels a surge of pride at hearing it. She watches as Kara takes a breath, tries and fails to school herself into a restrained amount of excitement. "Yes," she says. "Yes, of course. It's gonna be great, I promise." 

Daisy wakes up early the following day. She feels nervous, and it manifests as extra, restless energy humming under her skin. She goes for a walk, and when that doesn't clear it, she climbs to the roof her building and goes flying. She flies along the coast, traveling past cities and highways and trees giving way to rocky coast. She flies until she sees mountains, then pushes on until the first tendrils of arctic air start to caress her skin. 

The cold settles her. It feels like home. She relishes it, dips down to the ground to brush her fingertips against mountain snowdrifts and the first soft grasses of tundra spring. 

She looks at her watch, and circles back around. 

It's game night tonight. She has to figure out what she's going to wear. 

In the end, Daisy decides on her favourite red sweater and jeans. It's her best look, the one that makes her feel most like herself. She leaves her glasses at home; they've never felt much like hers to begin with. 

As she walks down the hallway to Kara's apartment, she hears voices and laugher from behind the door. That nervous feeling comes back, tight in the pit of her stomach. She ignores it. She's too strong to be scared of a few silly Americans. 

She puts her palm on the handle; trying to decide if she should knock. Before she can make the choice, someone's opening the door - a tall woman with dark hair and a soft smile. Daisy knows her face. She thinks for a moment, recalls a name: Nia Nal. "Kara, I'll go get some more - oh," Nia says. She stops short at the threshold, looks at Daisy and blinks. There's surprise clear on her face for one terrible moment before she finds her composure. "Hi. You must be, um. Hi." 

Daisy extends her hand. Nia takes it, her handshake soft and obliging. "Daisy," Daisy says. "Hello." 

"Nia," she says. "Welcome." 

Nia takes a step back into the apartment, clearing room in the doorway for Daisy to pass.

Inside the apartment are - people. So many people, and it's surreal to see them all like this. J'onn J'onzz is sitting on the sofa drinking beer straight from a bottle, Alex Danvers is cuddled onto an armchair and there's a woman that Daisy doesn't recognize sitting on her lap. They're sharing a glass of something - probably alcohol - and laughing softly to each other. There are two men in the corner; Daisy recognizes one of them as James Olson and the other one must be Brainiac 5. 

Lex taught her about these people. He taught her their weaknesses, how to fight them, how awful they all were. She's had time to reconcile that with the stories Kara has told her, and the compassion in her voice when she speaks about her friends and family. But seeing them is still a surprise, a shock of cognitive dissonance that blends with her nervousness and makes her freeze. 

Slowly, they all begin to notice her, and their conversation stops. 

It's awkward. It's awkward and terrible and she shouldn't have come in the first place, she sees that now. Reflexively, she flicks her wrists so that her sweater sleeves slide down over her hands; she worries the edges of the cuffs between her thumbs and index fingers. 

The silence probably only lasts moments, but it feels like much, much longer before Kara emerges from behind the screen dividing her living room from her sleeping area. She looks happy. She's wearing a pink sweater and leggings; an outfit that mirrors Daisy's own and when she sees Daisy standing in her living room, she lights up. "Daisy," she says, her voice a little bell breaking the tension. "You made it." 

Daisy doesn't miss the way that everyone else visibly relaxes at Kara's presence. 

Kara crosses the room. She takes one of Daisy's hands in hers, fingers lacing in between Daisy's and tangling in the cuff of her sweater. Her other hand finds its way to the curve of Daisy's low back; warm and calming. "Guys," she says. "This is Daisy Cir-El." 

Kara says more, introduces everyone in turn. Daisy doesn't listen. She doesn't need to. Her fingers flex around Kara's, and Kara squeezes her hand, reassuringly. All of that nervousness in the pit of Daisy's stomach starts to melt away. 

For the first time, Daisy feels like maybe this life will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious: I chose Linda's new name based on the name of the female lead character in _The Great Gatsby._ Her Kryptonian last name, [Cir-El](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supergirl_\(Cir-El\)), is a reference to an alternate version of Supergirl from the comics.


End file.
